


A Glimpse

by strangesaturday



Series: Press your lips to mine / till they are incandescent [1]
Category: Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: Androids, Deanna Beverly and Riker are good friends, M/M, Robotics, Technobabble, gay nerds read poetry, this is my answer, too horny for a teen rating, you ever wonder what Data's guts are like?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-01
Updated: 2020-09-01
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:33:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26223433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strangesaturday/pseuds/strangesaturday
Summary: Data is due for a full-system examination. Geordi takes a look under the hood.A deep-dive into Data's guts featuring an engineer who's in love but can't admit it yet, even to himself.
Relationships: Data/Geordi La Forge
Series: Press your lips to mine / till they are incandescent [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1952551
Comments: 48
Kudos: 144





	1. through an interstice caught

**Author's Note:**

> I want to shout out three works that inspired this fic:
> 
> [Maintenance by degenerateworm](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25187737)
> 
> [Online and Operational by SupposedToBeWriting](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21389776/chapters/50955364)  
> (I totally stole "nanodriver" from you, hope you don't mind)
> 
> [artificial bloom, hydroponic skin by elijah_was_a_prophet](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21824833)
> 
> It's all extremely good. Thanks for the inspiration!

Geordi La Forge was an engineer. An excellent one. Each morning as he prepared for alpha shift aboard the USS Enterprise, he took a moment to stand VISOR in hand in front of the warp core, listening to its deep hum, feeling waves of warmth roll out of the core’s center and over his face, breathing in the faintly bitter scent of dilithium as the hair on the backs of his hands gathered a static charge and stood on end. Technically, in the event of cataclysmic warp failure, it was no more dangerous to be standing right next to the core than all the way in Ten-Forward-- the whole ship would go up either way. Even so, Geordi’s morning ritual communing with the core was a potent reminder of exactly what kind of power it contained, and the responsibility he held as Chief Engineer to make sure that power remained in check.

Geordi La Forge was well-equipped to be Chief Engineer aboard the Federation’s flagship. The position he was not prepared for-- he suspected he never would be-- was being the primary custodian and documentarian of the body of his best friend.

Data had been cursorily mapped when he was discovered by the USS Tripoli and again when he entered Starfleet, but when Geordi opened him up for the first time, he was shocked to discover just how incomplete the schematics he had been given really were. From an engineer’s perspective, the prospect of mapping out an entirely unique machine was exhilarating. From a Human perspective, it was terrifying. _This is a person’s body,_ Geordi had thought. _Even if he’s… synthetic, this is a person, and I’m no doctor._ Over the years, as he became increasingly familiar with Data’s assemblage, the anxiety faded. But the complexity of the android’s inner workings never failed to dazzle him.

Today was bound to be no different. Data was due for his annual full-system examination, which meant Geordi would be spending all day holed up in Engineering Lab 2 with Data, in varying degrees of disassembly.

Geordi had mixed feelings about exam day. On the one hand, there was little he loved more than simply spending time with his friend. Sure, it could be a little eerie chatting with Data while rifling around in his guts, but he could handle it. No, what bothered Geordi was more… the intimacy of the situation. More than once, Data had assured him his concern was baseless: _Geordi, I have complete confidence in your abilities as an engineer. In addition, I find that my modesty subroutine is significantly dampened in your presence, owing to the closeness of our friendship. I have never experienced anything resembling discomfort during routine examinations._ Geordi took little comfort from Data’s assurance.

But Geordi’s comfort was not the priority-- he had a job to do. Draining the last of his coffee, he gathered his toolkit and the necessary PADDs from Main Engineering and headed to Lab 2.

Data was already there when Geordi arrived. Music was playing softly through the computer-- something classical Geordi couldn’t identify. Next to the exam table which dominated the room, he noted a small stack of PADDs and books, including a physical copy of _The Private Life of Sherlock Holmes._ Data was sitting at a console left of the table, in full uniform save for his jacket, which was neatly draped over the back of his chair. He turned as Geordi entered.

“Data! I’m not late, am I?”

“Good morning, Geordi. On the contrary, I am early. I have taken the liberty of bringing you coffee-- espresso prepared in the Betazoid style.”

Geordi unloaded his toolkit and PADDs onto the counter top which ringed the lab. The mug of coffee Data handed him was warm and fragrant. “Thanks, pal. Headache kept me up half the night-- this is definitely a two-cup kind of morning.”

Data raised an eyebrow. “If I had known this would be your second cup, I would not have brought it. You should be more judicious with your caffeine consumption.”

Geordi waved a dismissive hand. “I get enough of that from Dr. Crusher, Data, I don’t need it from you too. Come on, let’s get started.” Data nodded crisply and, stepping to the exam table, removed his black Starfleet regulation undershirt. Geordi began to unpack his toolkit.

In cataloging Data’s body, Geordi kept two lists:

One. Replicable components. This list was largely made up of relatively common materials, like duranium, molybdenum-cobalt alloy, bioplast sheeting of varying thickness and weight. Structural elements like bones, skin, muscle tissue, even some key processing and memory storage units had been scanned and could be replicated, no assembly required. If Data needed a leg, or a brand new yellow eyeball, Geordi could make that happen.

Two. Non-replicable components. The first thing on it was, of course, the positronic brain. It was possible to construct another brain, as Data had done for Lal, but there was no guarantee it would be stable. If Data had not been able to fix the kind of system-wide cascade failure Lal had suffered, Geordi knew he certainly wouldn't be able to. Second (Geordi cringed at the inclusion of this element in a list of parts, but where else could he put it?): personality. Data made regular backups of his knowledge and memory banks to the ship’s computer, but a submicron matrix transfer in the other direction had never been attempted. What if a ship-to-brain transfer was technically successful, but the metadata-- the nuance-- of who Data _was,_ was lost? Geordi tried not to think about this list. He tried to focus on how much longer the first list was by comparison, with little success.

Now reclining on the exam table, Data opened the temporal access panel above his right ear and inserted the cable Geordi handed him. The cable ran across the room to the console at which Data had been seated.

“Connection established,” Data announced. He would run a full diagnostic sweep of his positronic brain while Geordi began the physical examination.

“Alrighty then. Let’s get going. Computer, access annual examination records for Lieutenant Commander Data, authorization code La Forge Theta-2-9-9-7.”

“Voice authorization approved. Accessing records,” the computer intoned.

“Great. Begin recording.” The computer blipped in affirmation. Geordi seated himself on a wheeled stool of adjustable height and selected a tricorder from the kit. “Okay Data. Where should we start? At the very beginning?”

“I have heard it is a very good place to start,” Data deadpanned.

With a grin, Geordi swept the tricorder over Data’s limbs and chest.

Data’s skeleton was comprised of the same verterium cortenide used in the Enterprise’s warp nacelles. It largely resembled a Human skeleton, albeit a streamlined version. His ribs were made of duranium, an incredibly strong but slightly springy material. The cortenide spine had only 28 vertebrae compared to the Human 33, which helped limit mobility around certain key internal components. The most significant departure from Human anatomy were his femurs, which were constructed to accommodate light hydraulic action-- shock absorbers, essentially. But the pièce de résistance, in Geordi’s opinion, were Data’s hands. Each phalanx, carpal and metacarpal bone had its own diminutive servomotor, the source of Data’s incredible dexterity, speed and precision.

Geordi checked the tricorder readout. “Skeletal frame looks good-- no increase in wear since last year’s exam. No surprise there.”

Data’s eyes darted rapidly as the brain scan progressed. “I am glad to hear that is the case. Full diagnostic scan is nearing completion. No anomalous patterns detected.” Data removed the cable from his head and closed his cranial panel. The cable fell to the floor. Data folded his mechanically impressive hands in his lap and asked, “Geordi, may I read to you?”

Geordi glanced up from his PADD. “Sure buddy. What are you thinking?”

“I am attempting to read Walt Whitman’s _Leaves of Grass_ at average Human speed. Is that acceptable to you?”

“Old Earth poetry, right? Fine, though you’ll have to forgive me if it goes over my head.”

“I do not foresee that being a problem, Geordi. I was once advised that poetry is best experienced by ‘letting it wash over you.’”

“Perfect. I’ll let it ‘wash over me’ while I get started on your chest.”

Data selected a PADD from the pile and began to read aloud:

_Song of Myself. Walt Whitman._

_I celebrate myself, and sing myself,_

_And what I assume you shall assume,_

_For every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you._

_I loafe and invite my soul,_

_I lean and loafe at my ease observing a spear of summer grass..._

Geordi took a nanodriver from his kit and raised the stool so he could lean over Data’s chest. Geordi wondered, not for the first time, how much aesthetic consideration Dr. Soong had taken in constructing his children. Was it by accident or design that Data’s bioplast skin glimmered faintly gold in the artificial daylight of Lab 2?

Data held Whitman in one hand to make room for Geordi. Geordi pressed his index fingers into the skin below Data’s suprasternal notch, where the clavicle bones met. As he increased the pressure, the bioplast parted. Geordi slipped the nanodriver into the newly exposed notch and a thin slot ejected from Data’s chest. Geordi carefully slipped the lint trap from its casing and examined it. The trap was positioned near Data’s thoracic fans and filtered out any foreign particles that made their way into the android’s system. At present, it was mostly clear-- Data cleaned it himself on a weekly basis. Geordi observed gray lint, a small clothing fiber (operations gold), some pale orange cat hair, a tiny white flake of something unidentifiable, and-- a coil of what could be his own dark hair. His stomach lurched. _That could belong to lots of people_. He swiped the trap clean and returned it to its casing.

“Lint trap’s working fine, besides being clogged with a bunch of Spot fur, of course.”

Data glanced sidelong at the engineer and continued to read:

_The smoke of my own breath,_

_Echoes, ripples, buzz'd whispers, love-root, silk-thread, crotch and vine,_

_My respiration and inspiration, the beating of my heart, the passing of blood and air through my lungs..._

Geordi felt a little awkward. _Come on La Forge. Time for the real work._

Data’s internals had three main access points. The first was located in his chest. Geordi felt around the base of Data’s sternum until he located a divot beneath the skin. As he pressed the nanodriver into the divot, the bioplast parted and the rib cage hinged open like a dollhouse. The arching panels of ribs bounced a little, settling in to place. Data was forced to tip his head back and hold the PADD of poetry above his face. The ribs were held together by nylon muscle tissue so dense it formed a strong, semi-rigid casing, and for good reason. Data’s chest contained his body’s most vital components, except for his brain and short term memory storage which were housed in the skull. From this access point, Geordi could see the bottom face of the bank of fans, and if he peeked through the fan blades, part of the lint trap he’d just cleaned. Beneath the fans Data had a pair of bioplast respiratory casings analogous to Human lungs. He was not bothering to breathe at the moment. The left lung had a handwritten serial number written in indelible ink: Noonian Soong’s handwriting. The cyberneticist’s hand was all rough capital letters, angles and peaks. Geordi lifted the lungs, one in each hand-- they were soft with a powdery finish-- and flopped them onto Data’s shoulder.

The android’s voice was interrupted by a small _whoomph_ sound as the displaced lungs forced air through his mouth:

_Have you reckon'd a thousand acres much? have you reckon'd the earth much?_

_Have you practis'd so long to learn to read?_

_Have you felt so proud to get at the meaning of poems?_

Now Data’s secondary subprocessors were visible, nestled into his ribs in neat rows, connected by a lattice of multiphasic wiring. They were warm and emitted a faint buzz. Adjusting to the temperature of the room, a couple of fans whirred to life, tickling the hair on Geordi’s hands. A ropy bundle of nerve fibers in a crinkly plastic casing snaked its way along Data’s spine: his spinal cord. It looked alarmingly exposed. Also stretching down the center of the thoracic cavity were Data’s esophagus (the same powder-finish material as his lungs) and a jumble of bulbous transparent tubes pumping mustard yellow biofluid to his limbs and brain.

Geordi picked up the tricorder and scanned the contents of the rib cage.

“Initial thoracic scan looks normal. Commencing hand-inspection of secondary subprocessors. You ready Data?”

Data paused his recitation. “Secondary subprocessors are offline. Ready, Geordi.”

Geordi removed the first isolinear chip from the first subprocessor. Using tweezers and a swab, he wiped it down with neopropyl anti-corrosive liquid, and let it dry in the air from Data’s fans before replacing it inside the subprocessor. Easy. Now to repeat the process… 643 times.

Geordi sighed and took a drink of his Betazoid coffee, no longer hot. If he was being honest, he wasn’t much of a poetry guy. He half-wished Data had chosen to read from _The Private Life of Sherlock Holmes_ , or even Bruce Maddox’s latest report instead. But mostly, he enjoyed hearing his friend’s voice… maybe the poem was almost over, anyway. He cracked his knuckles and got to work.

○●●


	2. and I unremark’d seated in a corner

After an hour, Data had finished _Song of Myself_ and kept on going. Another four later, Geordi was done cleaning the subprocessors, had a massive headache, desperately needed the bathroom, and was pretty sick of Walt Whitman. He threw down the final neopropyl swab and threw up his hands.

“That’s it Data, we’re done. You can bring secondary subprocessors back online. I need a break, don’t you?”

Data looked up from the PADD, his expression open. “As I do not experience fatigue, I do not need--” he stopped himself. Old habits die hard. “Yes Geordi, I believe a lunch break is in order.”

Geordi stood, stretching his back and arms. “That’s what I like to hear. Let’s get you packed up.” He replaced Data’s lungs, though Data could have done it himself. Before closing the ribcage, Geordi took a second glance at a bit of writing on the inside of the right hand panel. Written along the ribs were the words:

_SOONG-TYPE POSITRONIC ANDROID_

_MARK 4.1_

_MODEL NAME: DATA_

And then in smaller writing underneath:

“ _often wrong” my ass_

The note was one of many marks Dr. Soong had left throughout his son’s body. Geordi did not like this one.

Geordi closed Data’s rib cage and made a show of stretching his legs and examining the carpet as Data dressed, putting on his uniform jacket for the first time that day. When he finally faced his friend, Geordi felt he’d forgotten how tall Data was, leaning over him for so long. _He’s not really_ unusually _tall. I’m just… short._

“To Ten-Foward,” Data announced. As the pair walked to the turbolift, Data experimentally copied Geordi’s stretching motions.

The lounge was mostly empty, only a few officers, some alone, some dining in groups, picking at the remnants of their midday meal. Guinan was not at the bar, instead, a young Haliian was leisurely wiping down tables. They found their usual table in an alcove by a viewport. Gamma Cygni II of the Tau Octantis system was visible, its heavily ionized upper atmosphere resplendent in glittering red and green.

Geordi gazed lovingly at the maki roll before him. “Data. What’s the weirdest thing you’ve found in your lint trap.” He placed the sushi in his mouth with reverence.

Data stirred his chicken korma thoughtfully. “After participating in an away team on Fomalhaut VI, I returned to the Enterprise with a carnivorous seed pod in my ventilation system. A stowaway, if you will.”

Geordi choked on a grain of rice. “A carnivorous seed pod! I thought you’d say something like… I don’t know, a button!”

“Indeed. Geordi, are you familiar with the old Earth musical _Little Shop of Horrors?_ I did not relish the thought of a reenactment,” Data took a bite of curry. “Fortunately, the pod was neutralized the moment I entered the transporter stream.”

Geordi laughed. “Wouldn’t be the craziest thing to happen on this ship.” They ate for a moment in silence. Gamma Cygni II crackled and threw sparks into the vast blackness of space.

“It’s strange,” Geordi ventured, “this is what-- the sixth time we’ve gone through this process? I’d say by now I have a pretty good grasp on what’s… going on underneath the hood. But I’ll never see inside the thing that really makes you tick. Your brain. It’s like… a black box.”

“A black box,” Data put down his fork. His eyes darted, accessing. “An object or system whose internal workings are obscured; opaque. I suppose that is an apt description, Geordi.” Data considered his friend. “Although, could it not apply to the human brain as well?”

Geordi hummed. “I guess you’re right. Difference is, if something goes wrong in a human brain, there are lots of people who know how to diagnose and fix the problem. But if something’s funny with your brain, and you can’t fix it, and I can’t fix it, we’re out of luck.”

“The ‘opaque’ nature of my brain is troubling to you.”

Geordi’s expression was slightly crazed. “You’re damn right it troubles me, buddy. Not being able to fix you is a very troubling thought. You keep me up at night, Data,” Geordi winced a little at his phrasing. He cleared his throat. “What I wouldn’t give to have a ‘care and keeping’ manual for you.”

Data looked at Geordi for a long moment. The engineer’s face felt hot.

“You have practically written such a manual yourself, Geordi.”

“Yeah, I guess so. It still feels… inadequate.”

Data gazed out the viewport. Geordi pushed wasabi around his plate.

“Geordi, you say my brain is like a black box. I find your phrasing rather ironic, considering the frequency with which other people seem to find me… painfully transparent.”

Geordi’s train of thought ground to a halt. “Uh. I’m not sure what you mean by that.”

“I mean that I am often perceived as awkward, overly literal, lacking nuance, ignorant of context, incapable of--”

“Woah woah woah, okay, I get what you’re saying. Do people still make you feel that way, even now, even on the Enterprise?”

“Of course Geordi. Nearly every day. But... it is not like how it was at the academy. When I considered zeroing my neural net and beginning anew. I have gained strategies to cope with difficult situations. It does not, as Commander Riker says, ‘get to me,’ in the way it used to.”

Geordi looked at his friend. The dazzling discharges from Gamma Cygni II ringed Data’s pale face in magenta and deep blue, mingling with the ever-present halo of electrical energy that surrounded the android. “I don’t think you’re transparent, Data. In fact, I wish all the time that I could see inside your head. Not just in the literal sense.”

Data smiled a small smile. Suddenly, he reached his fork across the table and scooped a jot of wasabi from Geordi’s plate. He placed it on his tongue and considered. Geordi waited in silence.

“It is quite hot,” said Data finally.

“Damn right,” Geordi agreed. _He did that on purpose, to diffuse the situation. Bring me back down to earth,_ Geordi thought. _He’s gotten pretty good at it. Maybe he wrote a subroutine for it. For me._ It was a pleasant thought.

“Geordi,” Data began, pivoting, “The senior officers will have shore leave on Lika V in two weeks. Have you planned how you will spend your time?”

“Um, well, no, I haven’t yet. Did you… have a suggestion?”

“In fact, I do. The planet is known for its magnificent volcanic rock formations. I suggest we plan a hiking trip culminating in a visit to Mount Ellisgamau, a controlled active volcano.”

Geordi smiled. It wasn’t that he had expected _not_ to spend shore leave with Data. He just… didn’t want to presume.

“Sounds like a plan. In the meantime we’d better get back to the lab. Still got a lot of ground to cover.”

“Indeed.”

○●●


	3. amid the noises of coming and going

As Geordi began setting up his workstation for the next step of the examination, he noticed a sudden lack of activity in the edge of his VISOR’s range of vision. Data had frozen in the process of removing his uniform jacket.

“You okay buddy?” If Geordi didn’t know better, he’d say Data looked embarrassed.

“I am fine, Geordi,” said the android. “I realized I have neglected to attend to… a vital biological function. Please excuse me, I will not be gone long.” Data left Lab 2. Geordi watched him walk briskly to the turbolift.

“The hell is he…?” _Ohh._ Geordi realized. Data did not require the use of a bathroom in the traditional sense, but he did need to dispose of waste when he chose to eat. _He doesn’t want me to open up his guts and be greeted by a bag of undigested curry. How considerate._

Data was only gone for a few minutes. When he came back, he showed no hint of insecurity. Removing his undershirt, he climbed onto the examination table once again.

“Computer, resume music.” The classical music swelled again.

“Hey Data, what is this that we’ve been listening to all day?”

“We have been listening to the violin concertos of Johannes Bach. To be honest, Geordi, I did not think this musical selection would be to your liking.”

Geordi smiled. “It’s not my favorite-- more of a Joaquín Rodrigo guy myself. But I don’t mind it. Today’s not about me, anyway.”

Data cocked his head. “Today is ‘about’ both of us, Geordi. Computer, new musical selection. Concierto de Aranjuez.”

Geordi’s smile broadened as Bach faded out and the guitar concerto faded in.

“Okay, here we go. Computer, access examination records for Lieutenant Commander Data, authorization code La Forge Theta-2-9-9-7. Resume recording. Data, would you mind sitting up? I want to take a look at your back first.”

Data swung his legs over the edge of the exam table. He did not offer to continue reading _Leaves of Grass,_ to Geordi’s relief. He merely tapped an appreciative finger along to the music. Geordi hiked one knee onto the table to reach Data’s back.

“I can lie face down if it will make it easier to reach my dorsal access panel.”

“No no, don’t debase yourself for my sake. This shouldn’t take too long anyway.”

Data’s second main access point was located in the middle of his back. Unlike the other access points, this one was a hard cortenide panel with only a thin layer of bioplast attached, and as Geordi inserted the nanodriver under the panel’s edge, it came away entirely. The panel was about the size of a large PADD. It made Geordi a little uneasy to hold a rectangle of disembodied Data in his hand. He set the panel on the table next to Data’s leg.

The dorsal access point revealed a lower section of spinal cord and Data’s long term memory storage, which from the front was obscured by bays of secondary subprocessors. Regardless of what his technical knowledge told him, Geordi had the creeping sensation that somehow, this was the component that really contained Data. _Didn’t somebody say, we are the combined total of our experiences? Something like that…?_ A little chill ran up Geordi’s spine.

Geordi scanned the memory bank with the tricorder. “Tricorder readings look good for long-term memory. Ready to eject?”

“Ready. Ejecting now.”

The memory core ejected a glistening aquamarine plastate circuit board. Geordi carefully grasped the small component by its edges, biting his tongue to keep his hands from twitching. He glanced up at Data, but could only see the back of his head. Geordi poured neopropyl over both sides of the board, letting the excess liquid drip onto his thigh, then trained a handheld fan on it to dry. The board dried in minutes, but it felt longer. Geordi let the fan run longer than necessary to ensure no moisture remained. When the board was replaced within the core, Geordi breathed a sigh of relief. He slotted the cortenide panel back into place.

“Hey Data, when’s my birthday?”

Data looked over his shoulder at the engineer, expression quizzical. “You were born February 16th, 2335, in Mogadishu, Somal--”

“Thanks Data, that’s okay. Just checking.”

Data made the facial equivalent of a shrug, and turned his head away.

Geordi clapped a hand on Data’s shoulder, and was briefly surprised to feel bioplast skin on his palm instead of ‘fleet regulation gabardine. Data’s skin was warm, but not quite as warm as an organic Human’s would be.

“Long-term memory is ship-shape. I’m gonna check the switch next. You good with that, buddy?”

Data nodded curtly but said nothing. He shifted his position on the table, leaning forward to brace his elbows on his knees.

The full plane of Data’s back was on display now; his skin seemed to have a luminous quality. Geordi’s mouth was dry. He swallowed and traced his fingers over the lumbar region of the android’s back. The bioplast in this area was thinner, to allow the switch to be actuated through the skin. After a long moment, his fingernail snagged on the nearly invisible rectangular seam that indicated the location of Data’s deactivation switch. He pressed his fingertips into the seam-- this time it required a great deal of force to break the seal-- and the bioplast parted and peeled away. The switch was about two inches wide, unassuming. The perfectly rectangular cortenide-lined depression in Data’s back was more disturbing to Geordi than seeing his friend's rib cage splayed open. He once again glanced at the android for reassurance, and received none.

Maybe Geordi should have powered Data down to confirm the switch was operational, but he could never do that. Instead, he waved the tricorder over the switch, sprayed it with anti-corrosive, and replaced the bioplast as quickly as he could. Geordi wanted to lean over the table and rest his cheek on Data’s pale back. But he could never do that, either.

Data was the first to speak. “I have full trust in you, Geordi. I have never been concerned that you would abuse your knowledge of my deactivation switch.” He swung his legs back onto the table, assuming a reclined posture. He looked down his prominent nose at the engineer.

Geordi sat back heavily into the wheeled stool, skidding a little ways across the floor. “I believe you, Data. But that doesn’t make it easier for me. I don’t ever want it to become easy.”

Data’s expression was inscrutable. Geordi removed his VISOR and rubbed his throbbing temples.

“Okay. What’s next on the list… biofluid systems?”

“You are correct. I will prepare.”

Geordi heard Data slide off the exam table, followed by the sound of rustling fabric. The high waist of Data’s uniform trousers would block access to his abdominal panel. Geordi was thankful to not have to worry about where to look. He heard the clunk of the exam table being lowered to its fully reclined position.

“I am ready, Geordi.”

With palms beginning to sweat, Geordi slid his VISOR back on. Data was back on the exam table, hands folded placidly on his chest, eyes trained on the ceiling. He wore only his black Starfleet regulation briefs and, rather incongruously, a pair of socks with a small floral pattern. Geordi couldn’t contain a nervous laugh. Data glanced quizzically in his direction.

“Have I done something humorous?”

“No Data. I just didn’t expect the socks.”

“Ah,” Data smiled minutely. “They were given to me by Counselor Troi. She described the occasion as, ‘just because.’ It is my understanding that spontaneous gift-giving is a way to express friendly appreciation. I am considering writing an Ancient West holodeck program as a reciprocal gift for her.”

Geordi smiled. Deanna would love that. “That sounds like a great idea, Data. Very thoughtful.” He wheeled back over to the exam table and leaned over Data’s body.

Data’s third main access point was in his abdomen. It was a soft access panel-- no rigid metal here. Geordi carefully regulated his breath as he pressed his thumbs into the midline of Data’s abdomen. The bioplast popped apart, revealing a long seam reaching from the base of Data’s sternum, trailing into the waistband of his briefs. Geordi used the nanodriver to uncouple the seam, connection point by connection point. When he could go no further, Geordi cleared this throat.

“Uh, Data. Would you mind… um, I can’t reach the last few connection points.”

Data took the hint. “Of course, Geordi.” He hiked his briefs low around his hips, exposing the last of the seam. Geordi finished uncoupling the panel. If Data noticed how his friend's hands trembled, he did not mention it.

Geordi opened the panels of Data’s abdomen. The soft bioplast was lined with an incredibly strong and flexible micronylon, and wobbled in his hands. He draped the panels to either side, and picked up the tricorder.

“Initial abdominal cavity sweep yields normal results. Let’s take a closer look.”

The contents of Data’s abdomen were completely obscured by a thick sheet of milky white silicone abdominal tissue. Bracing the sheet of muscle with one hand and reaching the nanodriver up into Data’s rib cage with the other, Geordi uncoupled the front of Data’s abdominal wall. The tightly stretched tissue snapped against Geordi’s wrist with a rubbery thwack. He cursed, shaking his smarting wrist.

Data craned his neck. “Are you injured, Geordi? I apologize.”

Geordi shook his head. “No no, I was being careless. I’m fine.”

Data looked concerned but did not press the issue. Geordi draped the sheet of muscle over Data’s groin and appraised the contents revealed within.

Data’s abdomen housed his biofluid system, the hydraulic organs that pumped coolant throughout his body. Tucked into the upper right of the cavity was his “heart,” a hydraulic pump housed in a translucent casing full of foggy yellow biofluid. The pump was connected to a half dozen rubbery hoses which quivered lightly in time with Data’s pulse, roughly analogous to a Human heartbeat. Geordi knew the hydraulic heart did not have to beat at all-- it was a purely aesthetic consideration. Through the film of the casing, Geordi could make out a handwritten serial number written on the pump’s side.

Dominating the center of the cavity was Data’s biofluid reservoir, storage for the huge amount of coolant needed to keep the android’s body from overheating. This organ also had a handwritten note, this time in Geordi’s own curling hand indicating date of installation. While on an away mission, Data had been stabbed by a Tellarite mercenary, rupturing the reservoir’s casing and spilling biofluid through his entire lower body. It had been a stressful day in Engineering-- fortunately his subprocessors were spared in the flood, but the reservoir casing and both knee servos had to be replaced, and Data’s legs had to be removed, drained, and hung to dry. Geordi had stayed in Engineering all night, unwilling to leave his friend alone in such an undignified state. Data had not protested.

“While I’m down here, let’s do a fluid change. That alright with you?” Geordi pulled a mobile hydraulic station to the exam table and began uncoiling its drainage tube. As he worked his fingers gently underneath the reservoir bag, a shiver ran through Data’s entire body. Geordi froze. _That was strange._

“You okay pal?”

Data did not look at him. “I am functioning within normal parameters.”   
  


_Okay, fine,_ Geordi thought. _We don’t have to talk about it._

The crinkly plastic casing was cool to the touch and wobbled in Geordi’s palms. He placed the bag against Data’s hip and, holding the drainage port above the waterline, uncoupled one rubbery artery. He plugged the drainage tube into the port and let go of the bag. Then he connected the artery to a second tube. As he powered the hydraulic station on, the drainage tube stuttered to life, sucking biofluid out of the bag. At the same time, the second tube began feeding new fluid into the artery. The new biofluid was almost imperceptibly brighter in color. The hydraulic machine hummed pleasantly, occasionally emitting a soft gurgling sound like bubbles rising to the surface of a water cooler.

Turning back to Data’s abdominal cavity, Geordi scooped aside handfuls of bulbous tubes which served as the android’s veins. The tubes fed through the couplings in Data’s shoulders and hips, where they branched into smaller tubes that threaded in and out of the muscles of his arms and legs. Two thick tubes snaked upward into the rib cage. Geordi knew they led to Data’s head, where they also branched into smaller veins, cooling the casing of his positronic brain. From there, a gland in Data’s throat synthesized the yellow biofluid into a clear liquid which moisturized his mouth and eyes. Down the middle of Data’s body ran a ribbed silicone tube, his esophagus.

“Seems silly to run this test after we just had lunch, but will you swallow for me?”

Data did so, and a ripple ran down the length of the esophageal tube. Geordi followed the esophagus down to the stomach, a transparent elastic pouch the size of a fist nestled in a bed of gently trembling tubes. It was empty, save for a few beads of yellow biofluid. _If he’d forgotten to clean up after lunch, it’s not like it would have bothered me,_ Geordi mused. _Everyone’s got a body, you know?_ The stomach was outfitted with a silicone sphincter and a tube which trailed down into Data’s pelvis.

There was one last organ on Geordi’s list. He had dedicated a significant amount of mental energy to _not_ thinking about it, but he could not put it off any longer. He could just see the top of it emerging from within Data’s verterium cortenide pelvis, a small hydraulic pump connected to a cluster of double-insulated nerve fibers and multiphasic wiring, and a biofluid tube that snaked deep into the android’s groin. The hardware component of Data’s sexual programming. The phrase “fully functional” echoed in Geordi’s brain, and his own guts churned and sparked. _Get it together, La Forge. What are you, fourteen years old?_

“Okay! Okay. Everything looks good. Computer, pause recording.” Geordi wheeled his stool away from the table with a jerk, wiped a bead of sweat from his face. He sat back and appraised the scene before him. Data was still placidly gazing at the ceiling, in contrast with the morning’s poetry reading. He looked more like a patient in surgery now than in any other stage of disassembly. The mobile hydraulic station burbled softly.

“Hey,” said Geordi, almost at a whisper. “Enterprise to Commander Data. How are you doing?”

Data craned his neck around, as if snapping out of a trance. “Geordi. I am well. I apologize if I have been poor company this afternoon. Much of my processing power has been occupied with… other matters.”

Geordi tapped a note into his PADD. “Oh yeah? Like what?”

“I was performing a redundant diagnostic sweep on my secondary subprocessors following their cleaning this morning, planning our trip to Mount Ellisgamau, monitoring my biofluid levels, considering whether to draw more heavily upon the legacies of Wyatt Earp or Butch Cassidy for Deanna’s Ancient West holodeck program, and… considering matters too personal to discuss at present.”

Geordi was taken aback. “Too personal… too personal to discuss, even with me?”

Data looked apologetic. “I do not wish to offend you, Geordi, but yes, too personal to discuss even with you.”

Geordi couldn’t help but feel hurt. “Hey, it’s okay,” he tried to collect himself. “You don’t have to share everything with me. Just know… that I’m always here for you.”

The corners of Data’s mouth curled. “I know I can always rely upon you, Geordi. You are my best friend.”

The words that normally warmed Geordi’s heart felt like a punch in the gut. He forced a smile. “The feeling’s mutual.”

○●●


	4. there we two, content

They waited for the biofluid change to complete its cycle. Geordi busied himself reading a report on inertial variance capacitors that he had been putting off. Data eventually picked up _The Private Life of Sherlock Holmes._ The pair had passed many a quiet evening reading together, content in each other’s company, but this was different. Data never paused to read aloud a particularly choice passage of his book, nor did Geordi ask Data for input on a daring theory he had concocted. Geordi felt… bad. He was tired, and his VISOR was killing him. He wondered bitterly if it was all in his head, if he had let his own foul mood spoil an otherwise pleasant day. Once, he caught Data looking his direction, and turned away from his gaze. _Wow, La Forge. You’re a real piece of work._

Around 1600, Data broke the silence. “Biofluid change complete.”

Geordi let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. “Alrighty then. We’re in the home stretch. Computer, resume recording.” He stood and set about detaching Data’s biofluid reservoir from the machine. As Geordi gathered the wobbly casing in his hands and gently replaced it within the android’s abdominal cavity, Data’s entire body shivered again. Geordi stopped in place, but said nothing. Data simply stared at the ceiling. Geordi continued re-situating his innards, and as his hands slipped between the plastic organ casings and silicone arteries s _o soft so pleasantly cool so smooth it almost feels wet_ Data’s body started so violently that Geordi threw his hands up and staggered back from the exam table. For a moment there was silence, then--

“Data!” Geordi exclaimed. “Data, what the hell was that?”

Data looked… sheepish? “I apologize, Geordi. I… do not know what caused the convulsion.”

“Data, were you… _feeling_ that? Could you feel me poking around in your guts?”

“I do not have nerve endings in any of the organs with which you made contact. But… it is possible that my muscular system was responding to a… psychological effect.”

“Psychological?”

“Yes. My neural net may have misinterpreted a psychological response as tactile information, creating the illusion of… the sensation of touch.”

Geordi’s guts roiled and burned. “What psychological response are you talking about?”

“I--” Data cut himself off. ‘I-- I can not say.” Data’s expression was so pitiful that Geordi couldn’t bring himself to press the matter.

“Well… okay, that’s fine, buddy. As long as you’re alright. I was afraid I’d hurt you somehow.”

“No Geordi, you did not hurt me, not at all.”

“Alright. I’m going to finish closing you up. You’re really fine?”

“I assure you, Geordi, I am fine.”

Geordi approached the exam table. He replaced Data’s abdominal wall, closed the soft bioplast panels and recoupled the micronylon seam with great care, all while watching Data’s face in his peripheral vision. As he closed the final connection point, Data gave a great shuddering sigh. Geordi’s hands hovered over the waistband of Data’s briefs, still hiked low around his hips. _What are you doing, La Forge? He can take care of that himself._

For the first time in hours, Data sat up. Geordi chuckled.

“Why are you laughing?”

“Sorry, it’s just, your hair is pretty messed up in the back.”

Data hummed in surprise and patted his hair down. He was too late, it had acquired an irreversible kink.

“Good news, pal. It looks like we’re gonna wrap this up in time for dinner.” Geordi scrolled through his PADD. “Only one more step. Wanna take a lap around the saucer first, stretch our legs?”

Data once again copied Geordi’s stretching motions. “I do not think that will be necessary, Geordi. Let us continue.”

“Suit yourself.”

All that was left to inspect was the largest organ of any humanoid’s body, the one Geordi was _least_ comfortable assessing.

Data smoothed his briefs back into place and padded in his floral socks to the center of the room.

“Ready, Geordi.”

Geordi opened his mouth to speak, but bit his tongue. Joining his friend, he swept the tricorder over Data’s body. “Tricorder readings look good… commencing visual sweep of integumentary system.”

Because of her knowledge of biological prostheses, Dr. Crusher was better suited to deal with the maintenance of Data’s synthetic skin and related body parts than Geordi. She had made a full report when Data transferred to the Enterprise: his hair did not grow unless prompted and he had no body hair. His nails were made of strong yet flexible plastate, and the lunula in his nail bed was purely for show. She described how different thicknesses and densities of bioplast sheeting were strategically employed to simulate the layers of skin tissue and subcutaneous fat present in the Human body. In short, Data felt pretty much how you would expect him to feel. Practically Human. Geordi remembered a girlfriend he’d had at the academy. They had dated a couple of months. Every day after class, he’d go to her dorm room-- she had a single-- and they’d watch holoprojections of old movies. They never got around to having sex, they’d just sit together on her bed, and after a while she’d pull his head down to rest on her thighs or stomach, a soft, warm, Human pillow. In his professional opinion, Geordi thought, if one was to rest one’s head on Data in that way, it would feel very much the same. In his professional opinion.

There was a particular section of Beverly’s report that Geordi had accessed an embarrassing number of times. “Subheading: Genitalia. Cosmetically, patient possesses all primary sex characteristics typically associated with a Human male. Patient assures me the organs in question operate, quote, ‘as you would expect.’ No further examination necessary.”

Geordi cycled through VISOR settings. “Um. Everything looks perfect.” _Perfect? What the hell, La Forge!_ “Uh, bioplast looks good. No damage is detected in the integumentary system.”

Data cast an unreadable look at the engineer. Geordi produced another tool from his kit and moved to stand behind his friend. “I’m gonna take an Engstrom durometer reading now,” Geordi announced. Data nodded his assent. The reading would indicate the plasticity of the synthetic skin, and had to be taken from a soft tissue area. _What is the least weird spot to poke your friend with a piece of blunt metal?_ “I’m going to take it… from here.” He tapped Data on his right side, above the hip. Data raised his arm to make room.

The computer had cycled through its catalog of classical guitar concertos long ago. The room was absolutely silent, save for the gentle beeping of the Lab 2’s computer console and the distant throb of the warp core a few walls away. Geordi heard Data activate his respiratory system with an almost imperceptibly soft inhalation.

Geordi braced one hand on Data’s shoulder and pressed the pointed tip of the durometer into Data’s side with the other. As Geordi’s palm grazed his waist, Data’s body erupted in shivers. Geordi dropped the durometer and grasped the android’s arms in a feeble attempt to steady him. The quaking continued in waves for several long seconds; just as Geordi thought it was over and began to loosen his grip, another spasm would rock Data’s body. Geordi held his breath and didn’t let go.

And then Data was still. Geordi did not release his shoulders. He could smell the faintly artificial scent of bioplast, mingled with Data’s cologne (a light, somewhat earthy scent, Commander Riker’s recommendation), the neutral scent of a freshly replicated uniform, and Geordi’s own sweat.

Data turned his head. Geordi viewed his face in profile-- he looked tense, apologetic. One yellow eye darted in its socket.

“Geordi.”

“Yeah?”

“I have made an error in judgment. I believed it was best not to discuss with you the personal matter which dominated my processing power this afternoon. That assessment was… unwise.”

“Okay. Do you wanna share it with me now?”

“If you do not mind hearing it, yes.”

“Of course, Data. I want to hear whatever you have to say.”

Data paused for effect. “Geordi, the involuntary muscle movements I experienced today were not the first instances of a phenomenon which I have dubbed, for the purpose of further research, ‘psycho-sensational confusion.’”

Geordi had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling. It was just… so Data.

Data continued. “I have observed that when I think of you, Geordi, unexpected connections are triggered in my neural net. My synaptic pathways draw lines of association between you and things culturally considered to be pleasant, such as stunning landscapes, music, and Human laughter. In idle periods, I choose to recall memories of time spent with you with 280 percent greater frequency than any other person. When in your proximity, I am compelled to remain near you. As demonstrated today, your physical touch triggers an even more intense retaliatory effect.”

Geordi bit down harder. He wished he could remove his VISOR, the intensity of Data’s eye contact was becoming unbearable.

“Though I am loathe to describe my lived experiences in the context of emotion, I am unable to describe the phenomenon in any other way than-- I _like_ you. I _like_ you, Geordi. I _prefer_ you, you are _preferable_ to me above any other person. I wish to… stay with you. I wish… to _be_ with you.” Data slowed down as he spoke, as if truly considering the weight of his words. “This is the personal matter with which I was preoccupied. I… am sorry if what I have said is disturbing to you.”

_Disturbing to you._ Geordi did not feel disturbed. He felt like a matter/antimatter reaction barely contained in a dilithium crystal matrix. He felt like a warp core breach. He felt like a red alert. He felt like being jettisoned out into space.

“Data, I don’t... I...I...” The yellow eye darted over Geordi’s face. Tongue-tied, he acted on instinct. He wrapped his arms around Data, rested his cheek on the back of his neck. His VISOR dug painfully into his temple, but he didn’t care, nor did Data complain. After a long moment, Data folded his hands over the engineer’s.

“Data, do you remember one of the poems you read earlier? A short one, I think it was called… a moment? No, a glimpse.”

Data hummed in affirmation. He recited:

_A Glimpse. Walt Whitman._

_A glimpse through an interstice caught,_

_Of a crowd of workmen and drivers in a bar-room around the stove late of a winter night, and I unremark’d seated in a corner,_

_Of a youth who loves me and whom I love, silently approaching and seating himself near, that he may hold me by the hand,_

_A long while amid the noises of coming and going, of drinking and oath and smutty jest,_

_There we two, content, happy in being together, speaking little, perhaps not a word._

“That’s the one.” Geordi gave his friend a squeeze and spoke softly into his neck. “Data, I like you very much. I’m not disturbed by what you said, in fact… it made me feel really happy. I want to… to stay with you, too. You’re… very dear to me.” He heard the android’s thoracic fans begin to whir.

“I am pleased to hear this. Geordi, I do not know… what is appropriate to do next.”

Geordi paused. “I think we need to do a lot of talking.”

Data gently unraveled Geordi’s arms and turned to face him. “And what will we do after that?”

After that, what would they do after that? Then, they would go to dinner. Then, they would go to one of their quarters-- Data’s quarters-- and feed Spot, and she would weave around Geordi’s ankles, and then they’d talk. Then, they’d talk some more. And Data would make Geordi laugh, and he wouldn’t understand why, or maybe he would. And he’d continue to refine his “make Geordi laugh” and “put Geordi at ease” subroutines. A year would pass, and they’d touch like they had today, or maybe, they’d touch before that too. Maybe Data could use Geordi’s legs as a pillow, a Human experience he’d never had before. Maybe decades would pass and they’d retire from Starfleet, and then they’d move to a little house near a little university where they would teach young academy hopefuls about probability mechanics and molecular dispensation. Or maybe they’d take it slow, start with their first real date, have coffee in the arboretum, find out what Holmes and Watson think about the mystery of their brand-new relationship, discreetly hold hands on an away mission, kiss in the turbolift, make Deanna smile when she felt the way they felt. And then they’d talk. And they’d talk. And they’d talk some more.

Geordi’s insides felt like the warp core. Data’s insides felt smooth like satin. Geordi felt like he might explode. Data felt like a good thing to hold onto.

Geordi took his friend’s hand. “Data. I think we should wrap up this report. And then let’s go to dinner.”

Data pondered the suggestion. He nodded his signature brisk nod. “I consider this course of action entirely agreeable.”

So they went.

○●●

**Author's Note:**

> Epilogue: they fuck and get married and live happily ever after. The End
> 
> let's talk shop (and by shop I mean "about android guts") tumblr @ strangesaturday
> 
> join the [daforge discord server!](https://discord.gg/qMAGw5BqXg) everyone's chill so don't be shy. (18+ only, please)


End file.
